


rain

by lyriumandmentats



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Clothed Sex, Heavy Petting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rain Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Touch-Starved, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumandmentats/pseuds/lyriumandmentats
Summary: The neon sign in Diamond City may have been considered an eyesore, but Nick couldn't deny that his companion looked pretty good bathed in that bright pink light.There isn't enough of this pairing. I aim to change that.





	rain

     "It's been good having you around." Nick flipped open his lighter, face illuminated in the cigarette's soft glow. "Couldn't have solved any of those cases without your help."

     Warren lit up his own cigarette, smoke curling out from the corners of his lips as he spoke. "Don't mention it, Nick. It's the least I could do, considering all you've done for me." The synth chuckled softly, yellow eyes shining bright under the brim of his battered fedora.

     "You'd better watch what you say, friend. Someone might start thinking you actually give a damn about something."

     The Vault-Dweller snorted loudly, though his expression remained neutral. It was true; he had built up a reputation around the wasteland as someone who was utterly indifferent to those around him. Yes, he was General of the Minutemen. Yes, he had run ops for the Brotherhood of Steel whenever he wasn't smuggling synths for the Railroad. Nick had even heard he'd helped the residents of Vault 81 after one of the children there had gotten ill. He might have complained about it while he was completing the task at hand, but he never really meant it. When people thanked him or attempted to reward him after he was finished, Warren would refuse, shrug off any gratitude pushed his way, and never speak of it again.

     "You and I know the only things I care about in this fucking wasteland are making sure I live through the day without being shot in the back of the head and finding a decent bottle of whiskey every now and then."

     It was Nick's turn to scoff. "You and your damn whiskey."

     "What can I say, Valentine, other than I enjoy the finer things in life."

     "Yet here you are, wearing the same set of road leathers you were when I first met you." Warren tried to argue, but the synth cut him off. "I can tell, Warren. There's a hole just above the back left pocket."

     The man scowled, pulling himself up out of his chair to check. "So there is," he said with a shrug. Nick laughed, flicking his cigarette off in the nearest ash tray. "But that's whatever. I can find a new set whenever I want. But a good bottle of whiskey only comes around once in a great long while, and nothing is gonna stand between me and my liquor. I once fought a Deathclaw bare-handed for a bottle of whiskey, and I'll do it again."

     "Keep tellin' that story and people are going to think you're telling the truth."

     "But I am," Warren snapped defensively. "I may not have /killed/ it, but I landed a few good hits."

     Nick wanted to laugh at him, but instead just shook his head. "I believe you," he said.

     The Vault-Dweller took one last puff off of his smoke before snubbing it out, standing and stretching. Nick leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the sliver of abdomen that peeked out from under the tight leather jacket.

     "You could stay, you know. I have the spare bed upstairs."

     "Thanks, Nick, but I need to start making my way back before Preston sends half the Minutemen to find me. Besides, Shaun wanted me to bring him all of that junk, and I'm getting sick of lugging it around." Warren jabbed a thumb to his pack, which was so jammed full of random pieces of scrap that Nick was surprised he'd even managed to zip it shut.

     "Just thought I'd offer," he said, standing up himself and cursing when his left knee locked up for the fifth time that week.

     "I wish you'd let me take a look, Nick. You know I'm mostly okay around machinery."

     "No offense, but just because you were a mechanic before the bombs fell doesn't mean you can fix battered old synths."

     "Ah, fuck off. I repaired small weapons during my time in the army, too." Warren looked mildly offended, to which Nick rolled his eyes.

     "Stop worrying yourself, would ya? A sticky knee is nothing more than a minor inconvenience." Warren clenched his jaw as he swallowed an argument.

     "Whatever you say, Nicky," he said with a shrug, shouldering his pack. "It was good to see you. I'll try not to stay away so long next time."

     The synth held open the front door for him, the concrete entryway beyond bathed in the bright pink light of the neon agency sign. And from the alleyway past that came the sound of rain pattering against the ground, punctuated with the distant growl of thunder.

     "Well, fuck," Warren muttered. "Isn't this just perfect timing." He stuck an arm out into the open for a second or two and pulled it back, sleeve already soaked. "This is what I get for helping you, Nick. The heavens open up and curse me."

     "Oh, can it, would ya?" the synth sighed, but there was no malice in his words. "It's just a bit of rain. Either catch your death of cold walking halfway across the Commonwealth or come back inside, wait it out."

     Warren looked indifferent as he faced Nick, who had joined him outside. "How long do you think that could take?"

     "Can't really say. But it sounds pretty heavy. I wouldn't guess it'd clear up before morning."

     "Fuck," was all the Vault-Dweller had to say about that.

     Nick made an amused sound, shaking his head. Warren was still facing out into the alleyway, clearly considering his options, and the pink light of the neon sign illuminated his features in a way that even Nick had to admit was enticing. Rugged yet defined, with high cheekbones and a nose that was only slightly crooked from having been broken so many times; every detail was softened so that it almost seemed like he was looking at a piece of art and not a living, breathing human.

     A living, breathing human who had evidently noticed him staring and was now watching him with an amused expression.

     "Enjoying yourself, detective?" Warren quipped, eyes bright with silent laughter.

     "Only wishing you'd make up your mind sooner than later," Nick shot back. "This damp is getting into my circuits."

     The Vault-Dweller's expression changed to that of concern as he stepped closer to the synth, leaning forward as if to examine the open spaces and exposed mechanics beneath. It was all Nick could do not to squirm under Warren's gaze, which was nothing short of intense.

     "It doesn't look like any water got in, but you're probably right. I'm sorry, Nick, I didn't think about it."

     Nick shifted awkwardly, keeping his eyes away from his friend's, not wanting to see the mixture of pity and guilt that would no doubt be present there.

     "Don't worry about it," he grumbled. "Old synth like me? It'd take a lot more than a bit of rain to fry these old circuits. They're too stubborn to go out like that."

     "Aww, Nicky, don't be like that. After all, I've got a good century on you." Warren was grinning now, and Nick couldn't help but return the smile.

     "As if anyone would ever be able to tell, as good-looking as you are." The synth immediately regretted that sentence when he saw Warren's eyes widen a fraction, lips part only slightly as he sucked in some air. "I didn't mean it like that."

     "How did you mean it, then?"

     Flustered, the usually glib Nick Valentine couldn't think of anything to say.

     "That's what I thought," Warren said smoothly. "For what it's worth, though, you're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

     Nick snorted, waving away the comment with his skeletal hand. "You're out of your damn mind."

     His companion only shrugged, the neon light reflecting off of the metal armor strapped to his shoulders. "Maybe," he said, "but I've never let that stop me."

     "Stop you from what?"

     Several things happened at once. 

     A particularly loud crack of thunder made Nick flinch, one hand bracing against the wall behind him to keep from toppling over. Warren moved forward with all the quiet power of a tiger, one arm on either side of the synth, boxing him in as he leaned forward to press lips that were softer than they looked to the corner of Nick's mouth.

     "What are you -?"

     "Tell me to stop," Warren said, voice barely audible over the sound of the rain falling. "Tell me to stop and I will."

     Somewhere in his processor, Nick was surprised he didn't tell the Vault-Dweller to do exactly that, but he was even more surprised by the fact that he  _didn't_ want Warren to stop. Warren, who was always so hard and stubborn and, more often than not, vulgar. But right now, with him so close that Nick could feel the warmth radiating off of him and the pink light still gathered around him like a halo, the synth couldn't say no.

     "Well? You gonna leave me standing here?" he mumbled, and Warren just grinned like a Cheshire cat before pressing his lips against the side of Nick's throat, just beside one of the gashes there. Why were his lips so soft, they shouldn't be that soft. Nick shifted around again under the touch that was all at once too much and yet not enough.

     One of Warren's legs slid between his thighs, which immediately tightened around the limb as if afraid it would vanish. Warren took notice of this and swiped the pad of his thumb along the seam of Nick's lips, a fond expression on his face. 

     "Someone's touch-starved," he said quietly. "How long has it been?" Nick looked uncomfortable, turning his face away. "Sorry, that doesn't matter," he said soothingly, pressing his leg up against the synth's groin. Nick arched his back off the wall, inhaling sharply at the pressure. 

     Warren hummed in response, still planting kisses wherever he could along Nick's jaw and throat, including the sensitive places where his synthetic skin was ripped open. His hands roamed all over the synth, rucking up the battered shirt to slide the pads of his fingers along Nick's abdomen and chest. The sounds Nick made were foreign to him, soft moans tinged with static as they bubbled out of his throat. 

     "Please," he breathed hoarsely, though he didn't really know what he was pleading for.

     "I can't deny a friend in need," Warren said smoothly. One hand continued to explore the frayed edges of the panelling on his chest, the other sliding slowly down, fingers hooking in the waistband of his trousers. "But you need to tell me what you want, Nick."

     The synth made a needy sound half-drowned out in static, rocking his hips forward against the man's leg. Warren chuckled darkly, grazing his teeth along Nick's throat. 

     "Do you want me to touch you?" he asked, voice velvet smooth, a purr against his battered skin. "Tell me, detective, do you want me to be slow and sweet, teasing you until you break? Or should I just throw you up against this wall and fuck you until your knees give out?"

     The poor synth couldn't think, his processors firing, coolant flooding his system as he tried desperately not to overheat. Nick nodded frantically in response and Warren smiled wickedly, grabbing the synth's forearms to turn him around and push him up against the cool concrete wall. The air was damp and cold and Nick placed both hands against the wall to steady himself. Warren reached out and plucked his fedora off the top of his head before placing it on his own. 

     "Fuck, you look better than I could have ever imagined," he groaned, hands sliding up and down Nick's sides as if memorizing his curves. The synth wanted to remind him that he was nothing more that a beat up old bot, but when Warren pressed himself up against the contour of his back, placing open-mouthed and sloppy kisses along the base of his skull, Nick forgot how to speak. 

     Warren rocked his hips up against Nick's backside, the hardness in his own trousers painfully obvious. Nick pressed himself backwards against it, maybe a bit too eagerly, but if the strangled groans the man was making were anything to go off of, he was certainly enjoying it. 

     The Vault-Dweller shifted for a moment and Nick glanced over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He sucked in a sharp breath when the cold air flooded through the open parts of his skin as Warren pulled his pants halfway down his thighs. He unzipped his own, his excitement clearly visible as his cock sprang forward eagerly. Nick swallowed and Warren kissed his cheek gently. 

     "I'll be nice, Mr. Valentine," he crooned into the synth's ear, and Nick sighed, nodding. 

     "I'll hold you to that," he quipped, and Warren chuckled softly. 

     Slowly, he slid himself between Nick's thighs, letting out a soft sound. For a moment the synth was embarrassed; he didn't exactly have the right "equipment" for this kind of thing in any sense of the word. Warren didn't seem to mind, but it didn't make Nick feel any less...awkward. He tried to quiet the thoughts and instead focused on Warren's length sliding between his legs, the silky warmth contrasting beautifully with his own artificial flesh. 

   Warren kept muttering out between sharp gasps; words of endearment that made Nick all but keen, clawing at the concrete. He wanted to respond in kind, tell the man how  _good_ he felt. But it seemed like, as his system worked double time to keep up with the overload of sensations, non-essentials were shut down. Including speech. Nick could only issue blurbs of static and the occasional whimper. 

     Strangely enough, that didn't bother him in the slightest. It was hard to be negative when such a fine specimen as his companion was fucking the gap between his thighs with a fervor that was nothing short of desperate. 

     Warren continued to make such delicious noises as he kissed and bit at Nick's neck, hands ghosting along, teasing every inch of the synth they could find. At one point one of his fingers brushed underneath one of Nick's frayed bits of skin, and he threw back his head with a strangled burst of static. Warren seemed surprised. 

     "Again," Nick whispered, and Warren dragged his finger under the edge again. It was like nothing Nick had ever felt before. Colours burst before his eyes and he kept pleading for Warren to do it again and again. 

     Warren did, groaning out his appreciation as Nick tightened the grip of his thighs around the Vault-Dweller's cock. 

     "So...close," he growled. "Fuck, you're amazing, Nick. So fucking beautiful." He continued to rub his fingers along the tear that ran up Nick's side. 

     Nick barely noticed when Warren's movements grew more frantic, but he did register the low, rumbling growl, the hot, wetness as his companion -- lover? -- spent himself. Warren bit down on Nick's shoulder, teeth catching one of the panels of synthetic skin, and that was enough. 

     Nick couldn't move, his entire body rigid as he forced a reboot. He felt hot, like he was melting, but there was a soft whooshing noise as coolant flooded through him. As his systems slowly came back online, Nick felt his legs give way, Warren catching him with his own trembling hands. 

     "You're gentler than I expected," Nick said quietly and Warren chuckled. 

     "You're lighter than I expected." He swept Nick up in his arms like a blushing bride. 

      Nick just started for a moment before grinning. "I think the rain is letting up," he said. 

     Warren shrugged. "Sanctuary can wait," he replied. "Besides I need a rest. Mind if I stay the night."

     The synth shook his head, chuckling. "Door is always open, doll."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I found this in my drafts and finally decided to publish it. 
> 
> Hopefully it wasn't too dreadful of a read xD


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